


Cluttered Closet

by cherryyycola



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 14:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryyycola/pseuds/cherryyycola
Summary: A gay short story dealing with themes of homophobia. Trigger warning for being outed, the f slur, and getting kicked out. Original work.





	Cluttered Closet

Cluttered Closet

“And we will never be alone again, ‘cause it doesn’t happen everyday…” My musical alarm fills the room, gently nudging me awake. I open my heavy eyes to stare at the dark ceiling, reflecting. Another week has started. I’m not ready for it, but when am I ever? I just wish I had something to wake up looking forward to every day instead of just the mantra “Do it because you have to”.  
I sigh and let the soft punk play for a little while longer before reaching for my phone and turning it off. Might as well check my messages while I’m at it. It’s all general stuff. This person liked your tweet, another liked your photo. Snapchat from this person. I clear out my messages one by one, pausing at the very last one. From Alejandro. I open it immediately, a smile starting to spread across my face. He always sends me good morning messages, and I love them to no end. I love him to no end. I let out a genuine laugh; one I haven’t had in a while. I do have something to look forward to now, thinking on it. Alejandro and I started dating only a few months ago, but it feels like we’ve been together for decades. He’s so bubbly and open, and I admire that more than he can understand. He makes me feel like there’s nothing wrong in the world like everything will turn out alright.  
I enjoy these feelings of bliss for a few more seconds before they come crashing down in one fell swoop.  
“Giovante! You better be dressed and down here in the next ten minutes before I drag you down here!” I almost jumped out of bed at the sound of my mother’s voice. Guess that’s enough of being sincere for the day.  
My father grumbles, most likely reading his Bible at the breakfast table. “What does that boy even do up there? Hope he ain’t texting girls this early in the mornin’.”  
Why are the walls so thin? I hate hearing every single word of my parents’ sly complaints. Whatever. I swallow my pride and pull a sweater and slacks on, sitting down on my bed to pull on my shoes. Time to pull on the stoic facade I’ve always had around them. It’s a defense mechanism, and most likely the only one that has worked so well. A terrifying thought pops up at that same moment I’m reflecting on all of this, despite my best efforts to suppress it: what if one day, despite all my best efforts to keep it hidden, the truth comes into the light? What if my parents and the rest of society finds out what I am? What will I do then? I try my best not to dwell on it, walking out of my bedroom door and starting downstairs, where my parents anxiously wait for me.

 

The sun is high in the pale blue sky, the wind carrying a crisp autumn breeze on its back. Today’s really cold, and I’m still standing out here while everyone has gone to their respective places for lunch. Groaning, I check my watch. It’s half past the hour and he still isn’t anywhere in sight. God, I hate this annoying habit of his. There is a difference between being fashionably late and just plain tardy. Might give him a piece of my mind if --  
“Gianniiiiii! Over here!” a bubbly voice cuts through my internal monologue, and I turn my head in the direction of the voice. I instantly forget about all of my complaints. My heart skips a beat when I see him approaching, but I don’t let him know that. I’ve gotta keep up appearances, no matter what. As I walk towards him, hands in pockets, I start noticing things about him and his outfit today. His white sweater and how his light blue jeans complement them. How clean his white Converse high tops are. How his white gauges pull the entire outfit together. He’s always had the best fashion sense. I can’t help but crack a grin.  
“Jeez, it’s so cold out here! Were you really waiting for me all this time?” He pulls on the sleeves of his sweater, covering his hands with them.  
“Yeah, but it wasn’t all that bad.” I shrug, slowing down so that I can walk at the same pace as him.  
He lets out a sunny laugh, which warms my heart on this freezing fall day. “Of course. As expected from Mr. Manly-Man.” He elbows my side jokingly, and I jump to the side laughing, holding my side. “Oh, so you do feel something!”  
“Believe it or not.” I reply, feeling a twinge of guilt in my chest. I don’t like having this facade either, but I don’t have a choice.  
We continue walking, having a conversation along the way. How are things at home, how’s schoolwork, things like that. All of the sudden, Alejandro falls silent. The silence is deafening; this is so unlike him.  
I let the silence continue for a bit to confirm if something’s off, then I finally speak. “What’s up?” I softly ask him.  
Alejandro is grappling his backpack straps, looking at the ground. He stopped smiling, and a grim expression has replaced it. “We have an audience.” He quietly says, still not looking up.  
Me, being the indiscreet oaf I am, look around for these onlookers. It doesn’t take much to find them since they’re not worried about being discovered. The perpetrators are sitting on a bench nearby, intently watching us. It seems like they’re doing more than just observing, gossiping and jeering while they’re at it. I swallow the dry lump in my throat, quickly turning away from them. Dammit, and I thought this was the quiet part of the campus too. I notice my hand brushing Alejandro’s, and I quickly put it in my pocket instead, causing him to flinch.  
“Alex, I--” I start, trying to apologize.  
“It’s fine.” He curtly says. There’s hurt in his voice, and it pains me more than anything. “I know what’s going on, it’s okay.” He turns to me, giving me a small smile. “Really.”  
I sigh, nodding. “Okay.”  
The onlookers are laughing at us now, and I glance back at them. “Think we oughta go.”  
“Yeah.” He replies dryly, walking faster. I pick up the pace to follow him, still hearing the onlookers laugh at us.

 

It’s been a few months since, and things have gotten better. It’s actually our eight-month anniversary today, and I told my parents I had something church-related as a cover. I’m taking him to a movie since we both decided on it. We’re watching some superhero movie, which I personally don’t think is very romantic, but Alex wanted to see it so badly. That is if he shows up anytime soon. I wait for him just outside the theater’s main entrance, watching the passerby. It’s busy tonight, and the ambiance of the theater is somehow amplified by the ebb and flow of the crowd. I watch the crowd as they come in and try to rule out the demographic. Young children and their parents. Teenagers and young adults decked out in superhero merchandise. I assume that tonight is the premiere of the same movie I’m watching with Alex. That’s a little more people in the theater than I’m comfortable with, but it’ll be alright. My eyes continue to trail the faces of the crowd, making observations. That’s when I notice the small group of teenagers across from me, looking back at me and smirking among themselves. One of them pulls their phone out, scrolls on it frantically then show the rest of the clique the photo they pulled up. The laughing gets louder, and whoops and shrieks of cruel enjoyment erupt. I avert my eyes, trying to play the shame off, but the whoops and cruel jeers are all I can hear among the buzz. I swallow dryly. I really hope they’re laughing because I look similar to someone they know or quite literally anything else other than what I think they’re laughing at. Suddenly, a sweet and familiar voice cuts through the hounding jabber that surrounds me.  
“Gianni!! Have you got the tickets?”  
I turn to look at Alex, letting out a sigh of relief. He looks great as always, with his maroon sweater and matching colored gauges. How does he have a different colored gauge for every occasion? He never ceases to amaze me.  
“Of course. All I need now is a date to accompany me,” I reply, digging the tickets out of my pocket and offering the second ticket to him. I can’t help but grin.  
“May I?” Alex asks cheekily, with a wide smile on his face as well.  
I shrug, handing him his ticket. “Sure, why not?”  
We both laugh, walking into the theater together, while still joking around. His hand brushes against mine shyly, but this time I take his hand in mine. It surprises Alex, making him blush. Good lord, I love him. I truly do. Maybe, just for tonight, I’ll put the facade down. Just for him. I’ll leave the straight facade outside of the theater, along with the jeering clique and my God-fearing parents and every other thing wrong in the world. I’ll forget everything else tonight; the only thing that exists right now is Alex and this superhero movie. That’s all I care about right now.  
Once we’ve gotten our snacks, we head inside our designated theater just as the movie itself starts.  
“Hurry!! The movie’s starting!” Alex whispers frantically, looking for a pair of empty seats.  
“Yeah, okay, okay --” I whisper back before Alex forces me down into the seat next to him. Alex already has his hand in the popcorn bucket, munching away.  
I let out a quiet sigh, noticing that we found a spot in the very back of the theater. I doubt anyone can see us from here. I immediately seize the opportunity, leaning over to kiss Alex. I’m being really reckless tonight, but I think the payout is worth the risk. This thought only strengthens once I pull away and see Alex absolutely beaming. God, I love him. For the rest of the movie, I have Alex’s hand in mine, thinking about how perfect this night is. I really doubt it can get any better.

 

The movie finished a little later into the evening, but I wasn’t worried about it. Sometimes our church activities run a little later, so my cover wasn’t completely blown yet. Alex’s parents were picking him up, so all I had to worry about was getting home as soon as possible. On the drive home, I run the events of tonight over again in my head. Everything was perfect tonight as far I remember...oh. There was that group laughing at me, huh? I hope they weren’t laughing because…  
I push it to the back of my mind. I doubt it’ll affect me; I haven’t left any tracks, and it’s not like I’m open about anything either. It’ll be okay. As I pull into the driveway, I wonder if my parents are staying up for me. I really hope not, since I’m in no mood to make up some mess about Bible study.  
As I open the front door and enter the house, I notice that there’s no light on other than the dining room’s. That’s… weird. My parents are always in the living room if they stay up for me, but I think nothing of it while making my way to the dining room. In the dining room, my parents are in their respective spots. My father is reading the Bible, while my mother is on her phone. Nothing too out of the ordinary.  
“Hello Mother, Father. I’m sorry for making you wait up for me, Bible study ran late tonight and I--”  
“How long have you kept this from us, Giovante?” The question comes out raspy, barely audible from my mother’s lips.  
“Excuse me?”  
“How long?” My father repeats for her.  
Ah.  
Of course.  
I couldn’t even have this one night, huh? Should’ve known.  
I go silent, and that’s when the real fun begins.  
“One of the younger brothers from the church showed us pictures of you with a…” My mother licks her lips; she’s never been one for confrontation. She gets it out quickly. “...another boy.”  
My father picks up her slack, in a much more aggressive manner. “Somebody else told us that you went to the movies with your little boyfriend tonight too. That true?”  
“I--”  
My mother bursts into tears, violently sobbing. “Oh God, how could you do this to us? How could you do this to the church? What will they think?”  
My mother’s crying only feeds the flames of my father’s anger. “I’ll tell you what they’ll think! We’ll be shamed! We’ll be humiliated! We’ll lose our status! All because of--of --”  
My father sputters with anger, trying to find a word describing me.  
“This faggot of a son we have!” There we go. That’s the word.  
My mother continues to sob, mourning the loss of her lovely status. “Oh Lord Almighty, help us! Please!”  
I’m only half listening to all of this. This must be a dream, right? Something this absurd can’t be happening in real life. I’ll wake up soon enough.  
My father bangs his fist on the table. “What do you have to say for yourself, huh?” He screams at me.  
I’m completely numb. I look at my mother, who’s looking back at me with fearful, teary eyes. Then I look back at my father, whose eyes are filled with pure and utter hatred. I look him straight in the eye.  
“Bible study was great, thanks for asking.”  
Now I know that this isn’t a dream, because I don’t usually dream about my father punching me square in the face, putting me straight onto the floor. I gently bring my fingers to my face and they come back slick and red. I guess he got a good hit on my nose. My mother screams as she abruptly looks away, my father seething with anger. There’s a murderous glint in my father’s eyes, his voice suddenly steady and deadly calm as he speaks.  
“You have ten minutes to pack up your shit and get the hell out of my house. If you stay for a second longer I’ll kill you. Go.”

 

Despite getting decked in the face, I’m still feeling numb. Millions of questions dimly bounce back and forth in my head while I try to pack; Who told them? What just happened? How could this happen? I try to remember what my parents said to me. Even though it just happened, it’s all a blur. My mother said someone from the church saw me. When?  
I stop packing. I know exactly when. Tonight. At the theater. Oh my God, were they intentionally there? Did my parents see the pictures first and then sent out people to spy on me to confirm? Fear started to rise up in my throat, making me clench and wrinkle the shirt I’m holding.  
How long did they know? Who the hell took those pictures anyway? Did they already have suspicions before the pictures were taken? Were the pictures taken because they were suspicious? Did I make them suspicious? I --  
I snap out of it, realizing I have less than five minutes on my father’s timer. My adrenaline spikes and I throw what I have into my suitcase and backpack. He’s going to keep true to his promise. He’s never broken one before, and he has no intention of starting now. The reality of the situation sets in, and I can’t stop the tears from falling. Oh my God, he’s going to kill me --  
I throw my backpack onto my back and frantically grab my suitcase, practically flying downstairs to get to the door. Before going to the door, I make the mistake of looking back into the dining room. My parents are staring back at me. God, I’m never going to forget the looks on their faces for as long as I live. My mother has pure agony spread across her face; her mascara is running, tears staining her face. Her eyes have a look of shell shock in them, along with the mourning of her child. I’m already dead to her.  
My father, on the other hand, is the polar opposite. His face is twisted in anger, the lines of his age becoming much more prominent. His eyes still hold that glint of murder in them; he feels no sympathy for his only child. He’s filled to the brim with pure, unbridled hatred for me, and I doubt he can hold it any longer. I don’t plan on staying to see him release that anger. I turn my back to them and rush out the front door, probably for the last time. I hastily get into my car, turning on the ignition. I doubt that the driveway is exempt from my father’s time limit, so I almost crash trying to pull out, my tires screeching as I drive away from my house. Er, my former house now. I’m having a full on panic attack. God, I don’t know what to do. I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan for any of this. Where am I going to live? How am I going to finish high school? How will I live like this?  
I don’t have the answers, and I doubt I will for a while. For now, I just.. I just need someone. Someone I can talk to, so I can make some sense of this. I start to drive to Alex's house, almost unconsciously. I know the route to his house like the back of my hand, so I don’t have to think too hard while driving. I hope he’s still up. Actually, he probably is. He usually stays up until two or three in the morning, even though I tell him not to. He texts me at three in the morning most of the time, leaving me to read his ramblings in the morning. The good times. The safe times. God, I hope he’s awake.

 

I park on the sidewalk in front of Alex’s house. His house is in the nicer part of town, maybe the suburbs. I don’t know; everything’s cloudy and vague and I can’t think straight. I leave my stuff in the car, lock it and start to make my way to the door. My heart’s racing as I ring the doorbell. I really don’t know what to do if Alex’s parents turn me away. I don’t think I could even handle being turned away right now.  
The door opens, and I stiffen up. Here goes nothing.  
Alex’s mother -- Mrs. Fernandez -- is the one who answers the door. She’s a sweet woman, but she’s far from frail -- she has a job as an engineer, and she’s a strongly built woman. I’m pretty sure she’s the head of the household.  
“Hello? Who is --”  
She takes one look at me and claps her hand over mouth. “Mijo, what happened? Come in, come in!”  
I feebly step into the house, looking around for Alex.  
“Is… uh. Is Alex awake?” My voice is frail and shaky, and I can’t help it.  
“Go ahead up to his room. I’ll come up there with a warm towel and things like that for you.” She replies, already taking out extra bedstuffs for me.  
“You don’t --” I start to say before I’m cut off by her infinitely stronger voice.  
“I will.” She notions towards the stairs. “Now go. Call me if you need anything.”  
I simply nod in reply, making my way up the stairs. I’ve been to Alex’s house countless times before since Alex is out to his parents. They’re incredibly supportive of him, and I couldn’t be happier for him. They’re probably the main reason why our relationship has been able to flourish.  
I make it upstairs and walk up to Alex’s door. It’s decorated with rainbows and other cutesy things. Cute. I don’t bother to knock, abruptly opening it.  
Alex is on his bed using his laptop, dressed in pajamas. He doesn’t look up at first, still using his laptop.  
“Mom, could you knock n--” He looks up, and his jaw drops open.  
I continue to stand in the doorway, not saying a word.  
“Gianni? Why are you here so late? Oh my God, you’re bleeding!”  
He quickly gets up and walks to me, gently putting his hands on my shoulders.  
He speaks in a hushed tone, looking me straight in the eye. “Gianni, what happened when you went home tonight?”  
That’s the moment I finally cave in. I burst into tears, burying my face into his chest. I couldn’t take it anymore. My body is racked with sobs, and I can’t manage to get a word out. I distantly think how gross I am for getting blood and tears on his clothes, but I’m too distraught to care. I just need him right now. That’s all that matters.  
Alex guides me to his bed, sitting me down. He lets me get the worst of it out of my system, which takes who knows how long. He doesn’t say a word through all of it.  
After a while, I have the strength to speak again. I still hold onto him, fearing that I’ll fall apart if I don’t. “I’m sorry for messing up your shirt,” I say, my voice hoarser than a smoker’s.  
He chuckles. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”  
He pauses for a moment before speaking again. “Are you up for telling me what happened yet?”  
I nod, sniffing and wiping my tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”  
I then painfully recall the events that took place, having to pause a few times to avoid making myself sick. I also recall my suspicions of how I was outed in the first place.  
“Oh my God, I can totally see them doing something as crappy as that! I hate how they have their own little cult in that --” Alex starts, but then noticing that I’ve gone distant from the conversation.  
“...What are you thinking?”  
“Nothing, really.” I numbly say. It’s true. This is all so much. I need time to fully process this.  
“Are you sure?”  
I look at Alex. Even with his shirt stained with blood and tears and his hair in a mess, he’s still stunning. I love him. More than anything. I crack a small smile.  
“What?” He gently asks. There’s concern in his voice.  
“I’m just thinking about how much of a mess you look like right now.”  
Alex snorts at this, crossing his legs. “And you’re acting like you look any better.”  
We both burst out laughing at this. More than we should, actually. To the point where our sides hurt.  
We both end up laying back on Alex’s bed, staring at his ceiling. It’s speckled with glow-in-the-dark stars. It’s a nice touch.  
A long silence follows, and after a while, I break it. “I love you,” I say weakly.  
Alex shifts himself onto his side so he can look at me. He kisses my forehead, tousling my hair. “I love you, too. We’ll get through this together.”  
“I know we will.”


End file.
